The Stuff of Nightmares
He spat the words out and then walked little away. "You miss the whole point. The lives of people are like young trees in a forest. They are being choked by climbing vines. The vines are old thoughts and beliefs planted by dead men. I am myself covered by crawling creeping vines that choke me."
He laughed bitterly. "And that's why I want to run and play," he said. "I want to be a leaf blown by the wind over hills. I want to die and be born again, and I am only a tree covered with vines and slowly dying. I am, you see, weary and want to be made clean. I am an amateur venturing timidly into lives," he concluded. "I am weary and want to be made clean. I am covered by creeping crawling things.
an excerpt from Seeds by Sherwood Anderson (1876-1941)
---
The past few days have been as always, absurdly idyllic. Classes will end after the finals (duh), which will be on Tuesday. After that I'll have, what, three weeks before regular classes resume. Finally. No Math FOREVER (if you will be technical about it, yes, I'll still add and subtract in my lifetime. Happy? But no more crap that goes with the basics, yes?). Take that, Math. I hate you very much, but now I understand you. I think we will have a relationship that'll work if only you would be more like me: abstract.
I miss Betch. And Mishee. And Sushaya. I miss all the times we tried to psychoanalyze King Kupal. I miss all the times our chopsticks dart to each other's plates (or bowls, whichever the case is) as if they belong there. I miss the Walking Impersonation of Pinkness and her undeniable sensibility. I miss Miss I-Try-Hard-To-Sneer-But-End-Up-Looking-Like-A-Frustrated-Wuss (no offense but you do suck at it and provide valuable entertainment,too). And I miss the convee:
"Mataba ba ako?"
"Hindi ah!"
"Tignan mo 'to"
"Uh."
(looks furtively away) "Payat ka noh. I know."
So classes are near again. I won't bother you with reminisces of my first year in college. That's for another rainy day when I'm so bored that I'll try to remember what happened. It's been a whirlwind, is all I can say, without undue strain on my little grey cells.
Speaking. I had a dream the other night. I dunno, but I always have something like it some weeks before school begins. Weird no? It's every year. When I was in elementary and highschool, I dream of being left behind by the school bus because I had to do something, like, find my socks or brush my teeth. I run after the bus. Always. Now this year, where I study in a place where there are no school buses, I dreamed that I'm horribly late for an 8.30 AM class and only remembered that I had one by 9 PM. I was looking for the dorm and running everywhere. Parallel. Looking for something, be late, run. Huh.
On a lighter note (transition sucks but hey), I read this quote somewhere:
"Happy people are the ones with poor memory."
Or something like that.
He laughed bitterly. "And that's why I want to run and play," he said. "I want to be a leaf blown by the wind over hills. I want to die and be born again, and I am only a tree covered with vines and slowly dying. I am, you see, weary and want to be made clean. I am an amateur venturing timidly into lives," he concluded. "I am weary and want to be made clean. I am covered by creeping crawling things.
an excerpt from Seeds by Sherwood Anderson (1876-1941)
---
The past few days have been as always, absurdly idyllic. Classes will end after the finals (duh), which will be on Tuesday. After that I'll have, what, three weeks before regular classes resume. Finally. No Math FOREVER (if you will be technical about it, yes, I'll still add and subtract in my lifetime. Happy? But no more crap that goes with the basics, yes?). Take that, Math. I hate you very much, but now I understand you. I think we will have a relationship that'll work if only you would be more like me: abstract.
I miss Betch. And Mishee. And Sushaya. I miss all the times we tried to psychoanalyze King Kupal. I miss all the times our chopsticks dart to each other's plates (or bowls, whichever the case is) as if they belong there. I miss the Walking Impersonation of Pinkness and her undeniable sensibility. I miss Miss I-Try-Hard-To-Sneer-But-End-Up-Looking-Like-A-Frustrated-Wuss (no offense but you do suck at it and provide valuable entertainment,too). And I miss the convee:
"Mataba ba ako?"
"Hindi ah!"
"Tignan mo 'to"
"Uh."
(looks furtively away) "Payat ka noh. I know."
So classes are near again. I won't bother you with reminisces of my first year in college. That's for another rainy day when I'm so bored that I'll try to remember what happened. It's been a whirlwind, is all I can say, without undue strain on my little grey cells.
Speaking. I had a dream the other night. I dunno, but I always have something like it some weeks before school begins. Weird no? It's every year. When I was in elementary and highschool, I dream of being left behind by the school bus because I had to do something, like, find my socks or brush my teeth. I run after the bus. Always. Now this year, where I study in a place where there are no school buses, I dreamed that I'm horribly late for an 8.30 AM class and only remembered that I had one by 9 PM. I was looking for the dorm and running everywhere. Parallel. Looking for something, be late, run. Huh.
On a lighter note (transition sucks but hey), I read this quote somewhere:
"Happy people are the ones with poor memory."
Or something like that.
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8:58 PM
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